Chicken Noodle Soup
by GarryxMrChairFan
Summary: Being sick was absolutely no fun, but Francis would always take care of his Mathieu no matter what. Franada, AU; prompt fill for thefreakoutsideyourwindow on tumblr.


**_Chicken Noodle Soup_**

~GarryxMrChairFan :3

**Customary Disclaimer:** Any and all recognizable _Hetalia: Axis Powers_ characters © Himaruya Hidekaz.

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**A/N:** Here's the first of my 50 follower prompt event submissions. This is for **thefreakoutsideyourwindow** who wanted a fluffy Franada with ill Canada.

Hope you enjoy~

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The warm aroma of soup— chicken noodle, with a nice, thick broth, to be precise— wafted up from the pot, heating Francis' face as he stood before it, stirring it gently with a spoon in one hand as he flipped idly through a magazine with the other, glancing absently at the items within. He didn't need any new cookie cutters, but they sure were cute to look at.

A body-wracking cough sounded from the living room, and the Frenchman flinched at the horrid wetness he could hear within it. His poor, poor _Mathieu._ The boy had managed to catch the awful flu going around, and he'd been nearly bedridden for the last week or so. Francis had hardly done anything but be with him the entire time, cooking what little he could stomach and running back and forth from the drugstores to make sure they had the proper medicines. They'd been to the doctor's office earlier that week, leaving with a prescription of some sort, the pills big enough he was surprise the Canadian didn't choke on them.

Another cough sounded, and Francis reached out and turned off the stove, padding over to the cabinets and pulling out a large bowl, searching the drawers for a ladle before going back to the pot with a sigh. He spooned out the hot liquid into the bowl, careful not to spill any, and delicately made his way out of the kitchen and to his little Canadian, curled up on the couch in a thick plush blanket.

His _Mathieu_ really was looking worse for wear. His blond hair was slightly greasy, as he hadn't had the strength to stand long enough to shower in almost a week; his indigo eyes were red and puffy, his nose stopped up, making it hard to breathe. His lips were chapped, and Francis was pretty sure he hadn't bothered to brush his teeth in the last few days, either. It hurt to see his lover so sick.

With a soft clearing of his throat, the Frenchman announced his presence, smiling as Matthew looked over with a sniff and a small smile of his own.

"Thanks," he murmured quietly, his voice rough from all the damage on his throat as Francis gently adjusted the blankets and pillows around him to situate the hot dish in his lap. He grabbed the spoon with weak fingers and chuckled. "Smells good."

Francis returned the chuckle with a soft one of his own, setting himself on the couch next to his young, sick boyfriend, wrapping his arm around the Canadian's shoulders as he leaned back into the plump cushions. "Can you smell it, _chère?_"

The boy nodded. "A bit," he said, carefully dipping the spoon into the broth, blowing gently on it to cool the temperature before sipping it from the utensil. "It's getting better, really."

Francis hummed, reaching up to run his fingers through limp blond locks, grimacing slightly at the dirty feel. Matthew really needed a nice hot bath, he thought, gently massaging the blond's scalp as he ate. It was good that he could taste, even a bit, again. It meant he was getting better.

They sat in silence as Matthew slowly made his way to the bottom of the bowl, the soup eventually cooling enough that he didn't have to stop to cool it himself before putting the spoon in his mouth and sipping the liquid down. Francis continued his soft petting of his boyfriend, humming gently a tune he and the Canadian were familiar with to soothe the tension caused by illness. He sighed contentedly when he felt his _Mathieu's _shoulders relax at his massaging.

When the bowl was emptied, Francis took it from Matthew and made his way back to the kitchen, sashaying through the room to the tune of his chosen song as he went to put the dishes in the sink, running hot water and rinsing and scrubbing away the traces of the broth. He listened to the honking sound of the Canadian blowing his nose once again, setting the dishes in the dishwasher before drying his hands and walking back into the living room.

"You need a shower, _chère,_" he said, standing in front of his lover and holding out his hands. "You'll feel better, I know you will."

With another cough, this one much more subdued, Matthew shrugged out of the blankets, reaching out to grab his Frenchman's hands. "Alright. If I can stand," he added with a teasing smile, letting Francis lead him to the bathroom in their shared room.

Francis went to the shower, adjusting the temperature of the water as Matthew stripped out of his sweater and pyjama pants. Once the water was where he knew the Canadian liked it, he stepped out, taking a towel with him to toss in the dryer to warm up for when he finished the shower.

The Frenchman sat and read from his most recent romantic novel as he waited for his _petit chou_ to finish, immersing himself in the _amour_ of the moment to take his mind off his worry for his _Mathieu. _He was called away not long into it, and he quickly grabbed the warm, fluffy towel for the boy as he came back. He helped the blond out of the shower and wrapped him up, drying him off with gentle rubbing, laughing brightly at the deep flush of embarrassment on his Canadian's face when he lingered a bit too long in certain places and earning himself a glare and a slap.

He helped Matthew dress in clean pyjamas afterward, pulling the sick boy to their bed and curling up with him on top of the comforter. He pressed soft kiss after soft kiss to his lover's temple.

"You're gonna catch it too if you don't stop," Matthew complained, curling farther up into Francis' arms nonetheless.

"Nonsense!" Francis smiled, burying his nose into damp blond hair. He inhaled the scent of coconut and sighed happily. "And even if I do, _chère, _you'll be well enough by then to take care of me as I have you."

Matthew tilted his head up, a soft smile on his lips, leaning in to press them against Francis' own. "Thank you. I'm sorry I've been such a burden this last week."

The Frenchman pulled away, giving the boy a stern look. "You are never a burden, _mon amour._ I do not want to hear you thinking that way again. I will gladly take care of you whenever you need." He settled back down, pulling Matthew closer and tucking his head under his stubble-covered chin. "Rest, now. You need it."

He began humming once again, lulling his ill lover to sleep as he combed his fingers through drying hair. Eventually, Francis drifted off himself, and the duo spent the rest of the afternoon napping in the other's arms.

Matthew was also right. Francis couldn't help his loopy grins every time his Canadian rolled his eyes as he fed him homemade chicken noodle soup.

_END_


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